


Stand (and Draw)

by LittleLinor



Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, kink discussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 23:24:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16690909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor
Summary: Somehow, Naoki doesn't seem to react to pain.





	Stand (and Draw)

**Author's Note:**

> Boy this is old and it shows... my Shingo voice really could use some rewriting, but oh well.
> 
> A sequel to [Break Ride](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3364052) that I forgot to post here.

It takes Shingo a while to pin down exactly what’s bothering him about Naoki’s reactions.

Or lack of reaction.

At first he chalks it up to inexperience. There’s only so much you can get through reading, even extensive reading. The feelings, the rush, the exact texture and resistance of someone’s skin under your fingers, that’s something you can only learn for yourself, and he’s starting to realise that, that at one point he needs to put down his sources and risk putting his toes in the water himself. Accept the possibility of mistakes, of not being perfect.

So when Naoki barely reacts to some of the things he does, after he  _asked_  for them, he thinks he’s just not doing it right yet.

But as the weeks go by, he’s starting to see patterns.

Because he  _does_  react to some things: he reacts to being restrained, he reacts to surprises, he reacts to pressure and expectations and strain. When Shingo grips his hair and pulls his head back or pushes it down, he gasps and moans and shivers. But no amount of biting or scratching or even what little impact play he’s trusted himself with has gotten anything near that out of him, not unless he’s forcing him into some other kind of vulnerability at the same time. Pain, on its own, doesn’t get to him.

Instead what he gets is something very quiet and comfortable, sighs that almost sound like purrs when Shingo drags his nails down his back, quiet gasps and the occasional little whining hum when the small bamboo rod Shingo’s managed to get his hands on hits his skin.

And it’s not like Shingo doesn’t  _like_  those. Naoki’s happy and nowhere near upset when they do it, and if it gives him the same kind of pleasure as being kissed or caressed, he’s not exactly going to complain. It’s not like he’s trying to upset him.

But he remembers the look in Naoki’s eyes, weeks ago, the vulnerability and determination when he said  _I think I want you to hurt me a little_ , and it’s something he’s gotten glimpses of since then, something precious and delicate and awe-inspiringly powerful that comes to the surface whenever Naoki opens himself up enough and Shingo manages to break the first, paper-thin layer at the surface of Naoki’s being (and there’s a light in his eyes, whenever that happens, and afterwards, something bright and warm that makes Shingo shake to his core).

He knows he’s missing something. And he’d just dismiss it, but Naoki  _asked_ , and he hasn’t insisted since, like he’s trying not to push his luck, but all it does is make Shingo angry and frustrated at himself because he wants to give him this.

He wants to see that light in his eyes and feel him tense and melt in his arms.

And so, one afternoon, he finally asks.

 

It’s nothing intense, just cuddling, mostly, and a bit of Shingo’s nails working at Naoki’s skin, and they’re relaxed and comfortable and still have hours ahead of them, and Shingo thinks,  _if you don’t ask now, you’ll always chicken out._

“… hey, Naoki.”

“Hm?”

“Am I doing something wrong?”

Naoki’s head pops up from where it was resting on Shingo’s shoulder.

“Huh? What makes you say that?”

Shingo pauses for a few seconds, trying to work out in his head the right way to broach the subject. His fingers absently brush Naoki’s shoulder… then move down, pressing against the skin of his back as he finally grasps the right words.

“This isn’t doing it for you, is it?” he asks, tracing the lines of heated skin with his fingertips.

“… it’s nice,” Naoki mumbles, the shape of his shoulders suddenly hesitant.

“Nice, yes. And I like it too but–Naoki, that’s not what you were hoping for when you asked, was it?”

Naoki looks away, lower lip pulling inside his mouth like he’s trying to resist biting it. For the first time since that day Naoki kissed him, Shingo feels like Naoki would run away if he could. 

But Naoki isn’t the kind of person who runs away, even when he’s scared, even when he  _should_ , and even if he did, it’d be hard with Shingo sitting on his lap.

But that look on his face, part guilt, part sadness, part dismissive lightness that’s trying to reassert itself, Shingo  _hates_  it with all his being. It reminds him of the things Nagashiro said all those months ago, those things that almost pulled Naoki down and drowned him.  _The emptiness likes you_ , she’d said, and it’s always been so weird to imagine because Naoki is so outrageously  _alive_ , but in moments like these he understands how fragile it is, how easily he could sink back down if he didn’t constantly put himself and his feelings on the line.

“Naoki…” He looks down again, frustrated at not finding the right  _words_ , then looks back up and pets his hair a little. Imperfect words are better than no words at all. “I can’t do it right if you don’t tell me what I’m missing.”

“It  _is_  nice!” Naoki blurts out. “It feels warm and I  _like_  it. Even if it’s not–I don’t want you to think you’re doing things wrong, okay?”

Shingo nods.

“… okay.” And then he huffs a little, because really, does Naoki  _have_  to be so difficult by trying to put others first all the time? “Then answer me a different question,” he adds, straightening and taking a tone both lighter and more commanding. “Why do you barely react when I hurt you.” He continues his thought before Naoki can interupt him and lead to another round of tiptoeing around the issue. “The way you asked for it made me think you wanted something intense, like how you react sometimes if I push you off balance enough. So why isn’t it going beyond ‘nice’ level? Was I just mistaken?” He pokes Naoki’s nose lightly, with a little frown. “And I can take a bit of criticism without getting offended, or hurt, you dumb punk. You don’t need to wait for me to notice. You’re allowed to ask for things, you know.”

Naoki just looks at him. His silence feels so weird, with how used Shingo’s gotten to hearing him talk all the time, but unlike before it feels like a good silence. He’s processing things, at least.

And then he nods.

“I do want you to. It’s just–it’s really light pain, that’s why it’s not making me react like that.” He smiles, then, chuckles, like a weight’s been lifted. “It does feel good though. Just not intense, like you said.”

Shingo stares at him. Thinks about all the bruises he’s left on him. The times his fingernails have come up caked with blood. He straightens and looks over Naoki’s shoulder at his back, and sure enough it’s beading now, on some of the scratches he left.

He sits back down, looks Naoki in the eye.

“ _That_ ’s… 'very light pain’?”

Naoki chuckles, sheepish, his hand coming up to fidget with the back of his hair.

“Ah, yeah–I’ve got a pretty good pain tolerance.” And he looks up and smiles, all light-hearted, relieved warmth, and it’d be cute if it wasn’t for the growing feeling in Shingo’s gut that something here is very, very wrong. “It went up after all the stuff that happened last year, I think.”

“… you never did tell me exactly what happened,” Shingo reminds him quietly, and usually that thought has a slight edge of bitterness (was he such a liability that they never thought to involve him?), but now he’s starting to think that maybe there’s something more to it.

“We told you most of it.” He pauses, sighs. “I didn’t want to worry you. I  _knew_  you would.”

“Naoki, what happened?”

Naoki looks at him. Sighs.

“We told you about the knights, yeah? How they tried to keep us from Aichi until we all figured out one of them was trying to manipulate us into breaking the seal?”

“Yes.”

“Well, they knew just beating us at vanguard wouldn’t be enough to stop us from trying again. So they used something a bit more drastic.” He winces a bit, scratching his neck again. “They all had some kind of item that locked you in with them until the fight was finished. And at the end of the fight, it counted all the damage you got on both sides, and turned it on the loser. Not just an image, like when you fight against someone like Aichi or Kai–or when I fought you when you were reversed. That felt real but it’s all in your head. But that… that was real.” He stops again, chuckles. “Kai got it pretty bad too, I think that Gaillard guy had something personal against him.” And again, a pause, like he’s trying to catch the details in his head, like they’re burried out of his reach. “… the first time it happened, I was with Misaki-senpai… this guy shows up, acting all superior, taunting her… I thought, I can’t let him badmouth her and Aichi… so I went in…” A chuckle. “And I lost, obviously.”

It’s too much. Too much belated realisation tripping him at every mental step he tries to take with details that finally add up. The bandages he’d seen Naoki with that one day. The way he suddenly started subtly avoiding Shingo, when before he’d kind of clung to him and his memories of the club.

“… is that why you didn’t tell me what was going on?”

Naoki nods.

“Kind of. I’d wanted to, but I figured out as soon as that butler guy showed up that we were being targeted. So I didn’t want to put you in danger. And then after  _that_  I knew I made the right choice.” He smiles, the tilt of his lips crooked and slightly guilty. “Sorry about that. I didn’t like leaving you in the dark, but… I didn’t want you to get hurt.” And then more quietly. “Even if I’d have felt safer with you around.”

Shingo blinks.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Like when people got reversed at school. I felt stronger cause you were behind me.”

Somehow, that’s one of the most humbling things he’s ever heard. And the bitterness is washed away by sadness–that he couldn’t be there for him when he was being hurt.

_You’re here now._

“… what happened? When you lost,” he asks, reaching up to comb Naoki’s hair from his face, because he wants to know, wants to help Naoki share a little of that pain. Even if it’s something as small as words. He wants to be there.

“The first time, he locked me in–this tight cage of metal beams–they all had a different one. And then electrocuted me. The second time, it was Gaillard, so–fire. Like, the  _fire_  wasn’t real, since my clothes didn’t burn off, but the pain was? And it  _did_  leave some damage on my skin and inside, so…” He shrugs. “I dunno how it worked. But I dunno how Aichi made us all forget either, so.”

He wants to speak. To get more details or to deny everything or to tell him he’s all right now. He’s not sure. The only thing spinning in his mind is horror.

“I think it lasted pretty long?” Naoki continues, staring into the distance, blind to the emotions on Shingo’s face. “It did for Kai, anyway. I don’t remember for mine–you kind of lose your sense of time cause your brain shuts down.” He shakes his head slightly, and lets out a breath that’s half chuckle, half sigh. “Anyway, that was over a year ago, so it’s not really a big deal. But it kind of messed up my pain tolerance.” And his smile is apologetic, this time, as if  _he_  had anything to apologise for. “So, yeah, scratches? Doesn’t really feel like pain anymore. I mean–I feel them, but it doesn’t really get to me.”

And he wants to, he wants to speak, to tell him he’s sorry and none of that should have happened and he should have been there even if he was weak, but the words don’t come, his throat still welded shut, so instead he twists a little and wraps his arms around Naoki’s neck, pulls him close and tries to encase as much of him as he can. As if he could protect any of him with his small, weak body.

He wants to cry.

“Shingo?” Naoki rests a hand on his back, and he sounds  _worried_ , like Shingo’s the one who needs comfort and protection, like he didn’t get– “Shingo, I’m fine now. Don’t be upset. It’s not really a–”

“ _It is!_ ”

He grips Naoki’s shoulders and pushes himself back up to look at him, and he can’t believe Naoki’s saying this, that he’s dismissing himself so easily.

“It  _is_  a big deal–Naoki, that’s  _torture_ –why didn’t you–” but he knows, he knows why Naoki didn’t say anything. Because he didn’t want to worry him. Because it hadn’t seemed important, as long as they got Aichi back in the end. Because if he didn’t talk about it, he could leave it in the same dark corner as his years of emptiness and let it rot there, away from his friends and daily life. He pulls him close again, buries his hand into his hair and holds him as tight as he can. “I’m sorry, Naoki. I’m sorry.”

At first, Naoki stays frozen in his arms. And then, slowly, he rests his head on Shingo’s shoulder, and Shingo lets him, following his head’s movement with his hand so he can keep his hold on him.

“… thanks,” he murmurs, then gives a little chuckle. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologise. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah but you didn’t sign up for a messed up boyfriend.”

“You are  _not_  messed up.” He tightens his hold on his hair, and huffs when Naoki giggles and smiles against his neck. Typical–

The gears in his mind suddenly align.

“… wait.”

“Hm?”

“So when you asked–how do you still like–”

“Oh.” He chuckls against Shingo’s neck. “Aaactually I think it made things worse.”

Wait.

“… so when you asked me…”

“I didn’t know this much wouldn’t work, or I wouldn’t have  _asked_.” He pauses, then let his arms wind around Shingo’s waist. “Guess my 'a little’ isn’t the same as most people’s. Sorry.”

Shingo nudges his head slightly (stop apologising, you dumb, too brave puppy). Mumbles “it’s fine” in his ear.

“… still gonna say 'it’s fine’ if I tell you I was holding back?”

“Huh?”

“When I asked for a little.”

It takes him a few seconds to come up with an answer to that.

“… define 'not a little,’ then,” he asks with a vague, resigned sense of foreboding.

“Not sure.” He hums a little in concentration. “Well, not as bad as  _that_ , obviously.”

And before Shingo can sigh in relief, he adds:

“… probably.”

“ _Probably!?_ ”

He’s not sure whether he feels relieved or further horrified when Naoki laughs against his neck.

“All right, all right, I’ll shut up.”

“No–” he starts, because  _that’s not what he wants_ , “I–just tell me, okay. I’m listening.” He sighs, to calm his beating heart. “… why would you want someone to do that to you? –that’s a real question, by the way, not a rhethorical one.” He pets Naoki’s hair, to comfort himself more than anything, really. “I want to understand.”

Naoki stays silent.

“… are you sure you’re not doing it to–hurt yourself?” He winces at his own wording, tries to correct himself. “I mean–no obviously you want to be hurt, that’s not what I  _mean_ , I mean, hurting yourself–doing more  _damage_ , to your mind too–”

And Naoki  _laughs_ , and it’s frustrating, but such a relief at the same time, because it actually sounds genuine, no half-smiles or guilt or hesitation.

“I get you, I get you.” He smiles and leaves a short kiss against Shingo’s neck, making him blush. 

He keeps his hold on him, and waits for him to continue.

“… it’s different,” Naoki finally murmurs, “when it’s something you want. When it’s someone you  _trust_. Like when we’re together–if a stranger tried to do the things you do to me, I’d fight back. But when it’s you, I know I’m safe, so I don’t  _have_  to fight back.” He pauses, and Shingo finds himself working his fingers into strands of his hair, pulling on it again. “And when I start losing control–when you  _take_  that control from me, it’s scary at first, but I know you’re there. I can just let go.”

It’s not a new concept, but the confirmation still makes Shingo blush further. It’s not always easy, to take that control, but the word 'safe’ echoes in his mind, making his heart beat faster.

“So I start thinking,” Naoki continues, “maybe I could break. Like, really break. Lose control completely. As long as you’re there…” He gives a shaky breath. “Back when it happened, it was scary, because I didn’t ask for it and there was so much on the line. But when I think about it, I can’t help thinking, if you’re there, I could take it. I could just break and still know you’ll be there to catch me. That you won’t let me go. Even if I’m weak and broken and I can’t stop crying.”

And Shingo has no words for that. What do you even  _say_  to such a declaration? How do you match any of that.

“So it’s not just reliving it,” Naoki finally says, his voice both calmer and more determined. “I think… feeling that–all that, the pain and all. It’d make me happy.”

He takes in and lets out a deep breath, then, letting his head comfortably rest against Shingo’s shoulder, and Shingo’s brain frantically tries to take all of it in.

It keeps tripping, on thoughts of  _why_  and  _how_  and  _why me?_  What did he ever  _do_  to deserve that kind of trust from him? What did he do, aside from being alive and at the right place at the right time, and being lucky enough for Naoki to return his feelings. 

But what if it hadn’t been him? He thinks, for a second, of Naoki helpless in someone else’s arms, and feels possessiveness press on his lungs. Protectiveness, choking him a little.

It’s not a responsibility he’d ever planned on. But he’ll be damned if he gives up on it, unless Naoki himself wants him to.

Naoki hums, and he realises his arms have tightened around him, his fingers twisting into his hair.

“… I’m not sure how much I can do safely,” he finally says. “And it will take a lot of training either way.” He’s read up on things, even if he hadn’t planned for  _those_  to be applicable. He knows how dangerous these things can be.

Naoki’s head shoots up.

“Wait, you’re considering it?”

“Yes.” He gives him a side smile, and feels a wave of satisfaction when Naoki blushes as he grins. “Do you have such a low opinion of me that you think I’d give up so easily?” Naoki laughs, and he pulls him closer by the hand on his head. “ _I want to be there when you break_ ,” he whispers into his ear.

This time, when Naoki blushes, Shingo can feel the heat radiating from his skin, even without touching him. And it’s a good thing, because it means he can keep his own, fainter blush under control (he may have pushed himself a little to say that, no matter how much he meant it), but Naoki’s gasping and fidgeting against Shingo’s back anyway, so Shingo’s mask of composure stays on.

“… thanks, Shingo.”

He can’t help it. He moves away from his cheek and reaches for his lips instead, kissing him before he can make his heart skip a beat  _again_ , and deepens it when Naoki moans.

“And in the meantime,” he says once he’s run out of breath and feels high on the touch of his lips enough to act confident, “let’s see if I can match your 'a little’.”


End file.
